


Root of Shadow

by ZorialDiamond



Series: Tales of the Heart [3]
Category: Runescape
Genre: Abuse warning, Depression, Gen, Horror, Messed up undead family, Suicide mention, self harm warning, trippy poison induced nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-06
Updated: 2017-09-06
Packaged: 2018-12-24 19:33:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12019524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZorialDiamond/pseuds/ZorialDiamond
Summary: Sometimes, the truth of things is hard to bear, but what else can one do but accept it?





	Root of Shadow

**Author's Note:**

> Whew....This is one of the darker things I've written, if the tags and warnings were any clue. Silvarius adjusts to his new home...there may be a bit of force involved. Apparently Kindred Spirits wasn't enough undead drama for me.

He knew. He knew he wasn’t invincible. Always at the same time, every night, the spindly form of Gregorovic curled into a tangle of limbs. Oddly enough, he seemed to snore, but the snoring sounded like an eldritch cat’s rather than a human’s. His tongue lolled out of his mouth, and Silvarius wondered how he didn’t bite it off.

It felt like his defeat was so long ago, what led to him being like this. It would not happen again. 

He had prepared his arrows. Prepared a spell of holy fire. He identified his weak points. If he could strike him in the chest or abdominal area, send fire through his entire body, the battle would be his. He would be free of the strings.

He drew the bow. He trembled. He hesitated. 

_No, you fool! Fire now! Destroy the monster!_

The string let off a twang as the arrow flew. He drew the runes in a reflex motion. He let the spell fly. For a moment, he saw his freedom. 

Until the fire stopped as quickly as it started.

Until the limbs shifted.

Until the mannequin grinned right at him.

A flash. The shadows surrounded him. They held him down.

A click. Two swipes. Glaives carved an X onto his chest and he screamed as the all-too-familiar venom filled his veins. A grinding sound, and a trick knife embedded itself in his shoulder. Knives fell from the ceiling and grazed his limbs. He shivered as the pain filled him. He fell to his knees, the undead ichor now staining his garb.

He heard the footsteps. He assumed Gregorovic himself got down on a knee as he felt the shadow loom over him. 

"Ahehehehehe....My son, my blood, you may have my potential, but not my experience. Why not let me teach you?"

"I won't....be like....you...."

His body gave out, and he collapsed unconscious.

He woke again. The poison still burned, pain shooting through his form. But, wherever the pain weaved itself, his body seemed to change. The legs of flesh seemed to burn and rot, morphing into physical shadows. He looked down, and cringed, tripping over himself. His head throbbed, as did the organic matter throughout his body that seemed to be converting into a mere shade of his former self...and he felt the yearning for that which made him run...

“NO…..I...Can’t be….” He crumpled, both from the mental strain and from his changing form. Then that laughter, that cursed laughter rung out.

_“My son….”_

 

His screams echoed through the Barrows. Then he jolted awake.

“Oh, thank Saradomin….”

His legs were as he remembered them, as was his torso and face. But the new clawed hands were not something his dream simply conjured. He shivered. The world still blurred around him, the poison still coursing through his veins. His form was much more durable somehow, but this meant he could take much more before succumbing to the lethal substance.

At least, it was silent. He was alone.

At least, that is what he thought until an all too familiar _Aheheheheheheheheheeee…_ echoed through the corridor and uneven footsteps grew closer. The lanky, spiked shadow cast itself upon a wall, and the head turned to face him.

 _“YOU…”_ Silvarius growled, digging a clawed hand into the ground to brace himself against the pain.

“I thought we were done with this, Silvarius. You’re outmatched. You used your best against me. Surrender. Accept the truth.” The shrill, reedy, almost snarling voice practically invaded his ears.

 _“YOU LIE! YOU LIE AND CHEAT AND ALL YOU KNOW HOW TO DO IS DESTROY!”_ In a fit of anger, Silvarius slammed a fist into the ground, tears gathering around his eyes. These new claws were far better than his old daggers for fighting close range. Biting his lip to brace himself against the pain, he launched himself at Gregorovic, attempting to dig claws into his undead flesh.

At least, he was expecting to find flesh. They could not pierce it. It seemed to be made of some kind of wooden chassis.

_What in Saradomin's name IS he..._

Soon the burning in his veins renewed. The world blurred around him, but the monster’s voice was still clear as day.

“You say all I can do is destroy….yet without me you would not exist, my son.”

The world faded away for a long time. How long, he did not know. But, sometime later, he finally awoke. The burning was gone. He was anxious about Gregorovic returning.

Silvarius internally jumped when he saw a shadow on the wall. However, it was the shadow of a woman. She walked in, matted hair and rotting face seemingly much more friendly compared to the masked visage that haunted him.

“Silvy! My boy…” She skipped in, hands on her heart which then opened to embrace him as she knelt down.

“H...Hello.” Silvarius stuttered, caught off guard.

“It’s so good to see you.” It was an unsettling, yet calm and tender voice. Memories woke in his soul, faint and garbled. Two faces, now seemingly beyond reach. Smiling. They spoke his name. Yet, struggled as he did to remember them, he could not. How long ago did they die? He did not know.

The tears welled up. Welled up for loss. Welled up for what was broken. What was broken in the world, what was now broken in him. He choked up, then started to sob. He sobbed and sobbed and sobbed. As he did, Carol patted him.

“It’s alright, my son, it’s alright…It will be fine.” She smiled, running one hand through his hair.  “It must be so hard for you.”  The tears finally dried up. Silvarius hyperventilated a bit. “Be calm...be calm…”  He did calm. He did not know why. Perhaps he was so starved for comfort nearly anyone who wasn’t his oppressor would do.

“How can I...be…” Silvarius muttered. “Master and Greggie and I will take care of you, of course! Hee hee hee!”

Suddenly, Silvarius’s eyes shot open. That manner of acting was familiar. Too familiar.

_"Awww, Silvy! Take a load off, you’ve saved Adrian from the werewolf! Let us other hunters have a chance!”_

_That’s how Anastasia talked to...me._

Then, the pieces fell together.

“You...You must be…” Silvy uttered, drawing away.

“Your ancestral mom? Good job, I knew you’d figure it out!” She clapped a bit, and Silvarius cringed. He sweated. But what was once just water was now inky black and ichor-like.

“I know this must be hard for you, but give us a chance, Silvarius.” She walked closer, putting a hand on the former hunter’s face. “You’ll come to like Greggie in time, I promise!”

“Shows what...you know…” Silvarius choked out, claws clenched. Yet, the violent impulse in him calmed when he realized that she was being puppeted. He could practically imagine the strings. No, she must be innocent. She was charmed into trusting the monster.  Through what means, he could not imagine.

“But….my son, we…” Was...that a glimmer of sadness in her eyes? Longing? Rage faded and was replaced with curiosity.

“You might be mistaking me for someone else…” Silvarius said.

“No….You’ve come home again.” She hugged him, holding him close, smelling him. “And now you can’t leave.”

Was she...crying?

“I won’t lose you...Not again…” She held him tighter. Vague memories, memories of a happier time, rose in SIlvarius. Faces he barely remembered. A smile. A cup of tea. A rare spot of cake in the barren former Hallowlands. A smiling face. The face always waiting for him as he trained for the hunt. But the shadows intensified and closed in on the vision. Shadowy tendrils, seeming to constrict everything. Bind him with strings. It was if his own blood was being drawn out to make them. And out of the woman now hugging her too. Marionettes, ready to be controlled by any able puppeteer. A shiver ran through him at the thought.

“........Mother, can you leave me be for a little while? I need to think.”

_Mother? What compelled you to say that?_

“Of course.” She said, then woefully separating and leaving Silvarius be in his room.

He sat there, fixated once again on his claws. They were sharp. Sharp enough to tear through flesh. Made for combat, not for the pleasantries of greetings. Made to shred and tear and destroy.   His mind was slower than normal. One couldn’t expect him to run on full capacity in his cursed state. Even if it were at his prime, there were too many thoughts to process. It was as if he were mentally stuck in the mud of the Myre. He thought of the Eternal Choir. The souls laid to rest. His brothers and sisters in battle. Now singing the songs that would carry his prayers and give them strength. If only...If only he could reach them…. Once a Hunter fell, it was their promised place of rest. Surely, if he could get there, they would take him in. It was better than being trapped with the _monster._

One slash. The smattering of now shadowy, undead ichor across his throat. He imagined it, the strings being cut. Then, the already dark Barrows seemed to fade into blackness.

He expected the light to come.

But, his hopes failed.

Instead, the last thing in the world he wanted to hear greeted his consciousness. That laughter. The feeling of strings tearing out of his skin, bound to a marionette crossbeam. A crossbeam being held by that hand.

“Ahehehehehheheeeheehee…..why do you continue to run from us?” When the world faded inagain, it was for all intents and purposes, him  framed by that accursed shadow. He was silent. The wound on his neck, unbeknownst to him, already started to heal.

“...I... I am….” He choked out.

“Yes?” The mask cracked open ever so slightly.

“...s-sorry….”

It was as if there was a hand around his throat, forcing the words out.

_“....Father.”_

With that, the pressure released. The needled teeth shone fully in the dim light, and the laughter amplified. He felt the shadow loom closer as the mannequin strode over, manic with delight. The hand that had pulled him back now found itself tangled in his hair, ruffling it gently.

“Welcome home, my son, my blood.”

**Author's Note:**

> Some relevant art, a whole dump of Silvy and Greg doodles: [ Doodle dump](http://zorialdiamond-blog.tumblr.com/post/159792882576/ive-developed-more-than-a-bit-of-a-small)
> 
>  
> 
> [ A collab fic by Sax and Laeti that I'm drawing headcanons about Greg's mannequin form](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9553718)
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks to Skystone Jexel for his headcanons about the Eternal Choir and the Saradominist afterlife! 
> 
> Wellp, Silvy gets beat up here quite a bit. Poor sadboi. There's also a bit of foreshadowing going on here, if you can tease it out. Wheee! 
> 
> Part of the reason Silvy exists is to serve as a vent for some of my own struggles with my mental health - I have experienced depression as part of my bipolar disorder and done some research on it so his experiences mirror what I have experienced to some extent (though he's been through a lot more suffering than I have so his experiences are naturally a whole lot more intense than mine). He's the depression to Greg's mania - creative stuff is just a good way to deal with emotions in general when I have the will to do it, heh.
> 
> There are plenty of homages to Greg's fight mechanics here. I love the fight, it's part of the reason why I enjoy Greg's character so much. The whole "Greg's poison induces trippy hallucinations a la Wyrd poison" headcanon came from me trying to figure out his poison mechanics (it burns through antipoison, I honestly thought the chatbox lied to you, and it can bounce from player to player and renew in a group, for the curious). I'd say it's poison generated by shadow magic that can then leave opponents weakened and confused, as his own description on the Beasts page ingame says.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed, and feel free to leave feedback if you wish!
> 
> _soli deo gloria_


End file.
